The Lord and his Lady
by Korsriddare
Summary: Oneshot He observes and learns. She watches. They are Kuchiki Byakuya and Senbonzakura.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine, unfortunately.

**The Lord and his Lady**

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya is a proud man. 

He seldom cried as an infant, and from the moment he could speak, the word 'tears' seems to be erased from his vocabulary. He was a quiet child; his onyx eyes often found slowly scanning his surroundings, his countenance one of calm and patience that seems almost surreal. The servants think him too mature, children of his age think him too unnerving.

He is a Kuchiki, one of the great noble houses. He was destined to be the 28th head, and he had thought ever since he could articulate his thoughts, that it is better to remain quiet and observe and learn, than to speak redundantly. He still holds to that ideal.

* * *

She watches. 

She is part of him, as much as he is part of her. They were bound together the moment his soul was born, and will thus remain so for eternity. She watched as he spoke his first words, and smiled contently as he observed and learnt quietly. Here, in a place carved out for her, in a place which is neither real, nor unreal, the sakura blooms forever.

The rich pink petals slowly drifts downwards when he is calmed, they flutter around when he is irritated, and they dance around like in a hurricane when he is angered. Yet, even as they change with the state of his spirit, she remains the constant. Amongst the sakura trees, she stands alone, watching the petals.

Watching him.

* * *

He would be the head of the noble family; he would be expected to become a Shinigami. Eventually, he would be a Captain. As he grew up, those were the words that were not spoken, yet he heard them as clearly as if they were shouted. He trained alone and quietly in a clearing amongst sakura trees. 

He had observed other Shinigami within the family when they resided at the Kuchiki compound. He had watched them spar and practice. His eyes took them in, and he remembers. Holding the bokken he had earlier obtained from a servant, he moved as he had seen. The twist of the body, the twirl of the wrist, the movement of the legs…

His mind went through what he saw, what he did, and he contemplated the reasoning behind the moves. No wasteful moves should be made, for wasteful implies a perchance for mistakes, and on a battlefield, one mistake is all it could take. He respectfully requested the council to allow him to enroll into the Shinigami Academy the night after he managed to master all that he could by observing. They did not oppose his request.

She had appeared to him that night. Too real to be a dream, yet too intangible to be reality. They were surrounded by drifting pink petals, yet the scent was somehow one of autumn. Her porcelain skin complimented by a kimono of the purest white, her long hair a delicate pink, her face speaks of inhuman perfection. She stood proudly, her head inclined slightly upwards regally, as if watching the sky. Her back was against him, but she turned, offering a pleased smile. It was for but a fleeting moment, but the image was engraved in his memories.

When he woke up the next morning, a sheathed zanpakuto laid besides his futon. He secured it respectfully against his waist, the edge of his lips curling up in the faintest of smiles.

* * *

She watched as he entered the Academy, already tipped as one of the rare talents that would eventually become one of the most powerful and respected Shinigami. He continued to observe and learn. She knows that he spoke only when needed; no more, no less. She watches proudly as even though many started to call him cold and emotionless, he simply continues on. He knows what he must do, and he does it without attempting to impress anyone, but perhaps himself. 

Nevertheless, he did impress when he was in the Academy. It was rare for one to obtain a zanpakuto before entering the Academy, and yet, there were rumors why he had yet to learn the name of his zanpakuto. She knew, for she watched him. However, it was not time yet. She is fair, regal, impassive, and most importantly, patient. She would continue to watch, and would decide when he is ready to call upon her as an equal.

* * *

As he neared the end of his Academy years, he saw her again. She danced along the edge of his vision, but he did not move his head. He brought his blade out smoothly, holding it upright close to his face. She moved closer to him, and a slender finger brushes his cheek with the lightest of touches. She spoke, her voice exactly like he had expected, even if it was the first time he heard her speak. It was commanding and soft, unyielding and compassionate, regal and whimsical. 

_I am the watcher. I am the warder. I can protect you from all harm, and I can strike down all your enemies._

He had nodded, looking into her eyes as she looked into his.

_I have watched, and I have waited. Call me out with 'Chire', and scatter into the winds I will. Be unyielding in your resolve, and defeat you shall not know. Listen, and listen well…_

_My name is Senbonzakura._

* * *

Sometimes, she invites him into her realm. Words are seldom spoken as they strolled along the sakura trees, him deeming it unnecessary to speak, her enjoying the companionable silence. Sometimes, they speak, she will ask if he regretted anything, and he will say no. 

She knows, yet she still asks.

_Do you regret marrying Hisana…?_

He says no, for he does not. She knows, yet she still asks, taking comfort in his assured answer. He takes comfort in the fact that she never doubts him.

* * *

The first time he released her, it was during spring, when the sakura blossoms. 

The Gillian had taken them by surprise, and the rest of the Shinigami in the small squad that came were wounded and laying on the ground, moaning in pain.

He had held her close to his face, whispering to her like the caress of the wind.

"_Chire, Senbonzakura."_

**_Fin_**

* * *

A/N: Finally done, my first foray into Bleach fanfics, hope you enjoyed it. 


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